We Done Screwed Up
by ShinyShiny9
Summary: Get you the kind of friend you'd walk one way up or down a mountain for. Not both ways, though. Now that's just excessive. (Lowkey continuing now because ?)
1. Chapter 1

**Have some Season 10, fellas. I have a ton of ideas for filler/fluff during and after it, but for now I'll just post this one and see if anyone starts employing force to stop me. :P**

**This is working under the assumption that a full night passed while the ninja were rescuing citizens from Ninjago City and fetching Garmadon from Kryptarium.**

**Obviously, I don't own the characters or the property!**

* * *

The nighttime was deceptively quiet. Only a few dozen miles away, Ninjago City was roiling with Oni, but the monastery atop the mountain was silent, peaceful. The twitter of crickets and frogs drifted up from the farmland far below.

"Anything?" Wu appeared in the doorway, the lines on his face accentuated by the candlelight. Misako looked up from a welter of scrolls.

"No, nothing. It seems your book was the only ancient text to speak of Oni at all."

Wu sighed, nodding resignedly. Misako shifted aside and motioned for him to sit next to her.

"What about the ninja? They haven't come home yet?"

"They just radioed," said Wu. "They evacuated the last citizens they could find escaping the city. A little more than four hundred, altogether."

"Four hundred?" Misako blanched. Wu nodded grimly—that was a horrifically tiny proportion of Ninjago City. There was a heavy silence.

"What about all the rest?" Misako whispered. "Are they . . . ?"

"I do not know," said Wu.

They were quiet again. Neither spoke, but they were both thinking the same thing: the Oni were creatures of Destruction. The chance that they left their victims _alive_ was pitifully small.

Eventually Wu shifted and placed his hand atop Misako's.

"Even if the worst has happened," he said, "we must still focus on saving the rest of Ninjago. We must not let the Oni extend their reach."

"What can we do?"

"We can prepare the monastery to be a place of shelter," said Wu. "And in the meantime, the ninja say they are going to Kryptarium. They hope that my brother, as an Oni himself, will be able to help them."

Misako bit her lip at the mention of Garmadon, her eyes roving over Wu's rough hand. Eventually she turned her palm over to interlace her fingers with his. Wu squeezed lightly, and she sighed and leaned against him, letting her head rest on his shoulder. There were too many dark memories to count, right now.

"You should get some sleep," murmured Wu at last.

"So should you," said Misako.

Wu hummed in concession. As Misako reluctantly pulled away, he eased to his feet, leaning on his staff.

"I should probably check on Faith first," he said. "Is she all right?"

"As well as you could expect, I guess," said Misako. "I just checked on her myself half an hour ago, don't disturb her. She needs plenty of sleep."

* * *

Faith was not asleep. She had closed her eyes when Misako looked in on her, and every now and then the healing potion and-or the pain of her injuries would put her halfway under, but there was no chance in the Cursed Realm that she was actually going to _sleep_. She was staring through the darkness now, tracking the pounding of blood in her head.

She had a feeling the nausea had nothing to do with her injuries. Maybe she could blame Wu's tar-flavored healing potion. Maybe. Every time she closed her eyes she saw flashes of advancing Oni, hatred glowing in their purple eyes; swirling black tendrils swallowing up the people she'd learned to defend, to care about; dragons struggling and screaming as the darkness pulled them under. Most often she saw Muzzle. He'd fallen when the smoke vines took the dragon he'd been riding, and the cloud of darkness immediately swarmed greedily towards him. Faith only had time to meet his gaze, see his eyes go wide and haunted—then he was gone.

Everyone was gone.

Dizzily she pushed herself upright, ignoring the colorful explosions that shot across her vision. She couldn't lie still. The more she lay still the more she remembered things. She was pretty hardy, there was a lot she could put up with, but apparently this mental slideshow was not on the list. Screw resting. She had to move.

Slipping her feet to the floor, she slowly shifted her weight onto her legs, testing if they would support her. They did. She tried to push away from the bed entirely, and for a second she swayed, feeling the room whirl unnaturally around her. But still, somehow she stayed upright and gradually got used to the spinning sensation. It hurt to stand, but that was okay. It hurt to exist in general, anyway.

A couple of the slash marks in her side reminded her very forcefully of their presence every time she took a step. Teeth gritted, she limped across the room, then slouched against the doorframe, already desperate for rest. Well, this was kind of pathetic. Everyone better be asleep already.

Without any knowledge of the monastery's layout, she ended up shambling through several unnecessary hallways until she found a door leading to the central courtyard. If she'd known there was a sliding door leading straight to it right in her room, she would not have been too happy. One way or another, though, at least she was outside.

For a second she paused, stunned at the sky. The First Realm had, like . . . maybe fifteen stars, tops. And they were pretty tricksy, sometimes they just switched places or went out on ya. Seeing Ninjago's massive spread of sky glitter, for good measure from a mountaintop, was something of a shock. For a second she wondered if she was delirious—or getting more weird side effects from Wu's healing potion—but no matter how much she squinted, blinked, or rubbed her eyes, the crisp pinpricks of light overhead didn't change. They must be for real.

Huh. Jet Jack would have some fun out here. She'd been spending a significant portion of her life screwing with Chew Toy's head by bringing home shiny rocks and claiming she'd stolen them out of the sky on one of her flights. Chew Toy would always get panicked and start yelling for her to put them back, they had few enough stars already, and—

—Actually, better to scrap this train of thought. Not very productive, seeing as both Jet Jack and Chew Toy were most probably dead.

Pulling her gaze from the sky, Faith limped across the courtyard, towards the tall double gates leading outside. Every second she braced for some monastery resident to wander by and catch her, but to her surprise nobody did. That wasn't very sensible. They really should have someone guarding this place. Well, but maybe they didn't need to, since the gates were probably—

—Nope. Unlocked. One of them was slightly ajar for good measure. Faith paused to catch her breath and shake her head at this level of imprudence. Maybe she shouldn't be surprised . . . She was willing to bet Wu was in charge of this place. This was just the kind of naivety she'd expect from him.

Worked out well for her, though. She knew she'd really hear about it if anyone caught her trying to stagger around in this condition. Heck, she _knew_ it was stupid, the gash in her side had been very considerate about reminding her so. Screw it all, though. Still doing it.

Leaning one hand on the doorframe, she squinted through blurry eyes, taking in the incredibly long, rail-less, serpentine stairway stretching before her.

Hooooooooo boy.

In retrospect, she was never sure how she made it down those stairs alive. By all rights she shouldn't have; she was half-drugged on the healing potion and half-delirious from all the stuff it was supposed to be healing. She could probably have pitched right over the edge of the stairs and not even noticed till she reached the ground. Every now and then she became a little more lucid and would pick up strange random details, distorted through the fever haze. Sometimes she'd become aware of the cool breeze, and be seized with panic that it was about to blow her off the stairs. Occasionally a snippet of the frog-and-cricket song reached her, corrupted into a bewildering, hellish buzz. The stars alternated between fading to nothing and flaring up searingly bright, till she could have sworn she felt their heat washing over her.

Finally she reached the end of the stairs. She promptly went sprawling; the motion of putting one foot below the other had become so mechanical that she forgot how to deal with a level surface.

On the bright side, hitting the ground did a fantastic job waking her up. Top-notch.

Gritting out a curse, she shifted her arms underneath herself and pushed herself onto her elbows. It took some convincing, but after a moment she managed to roll to her feet as well. There. Dignity not exactly intact, but she had actually gotten beyond the point of caring. Now . . . why was she down here again? . . .

Oh, right. Setting her teeth, she began to drift along the base of the mountain. She'd worried she would have to circle a long way, but luckily she'd only gone a few hundred feet when she spotted a familiar dull-red form. Firstbourne was still curled where she'd fallen, half-mired in irrigation ditches. For a moment Faith thought she might be dead, but when she got closer she felt breath puffing from the dragon's nostrils. Good, so she didn't come all this way for nothing.

Sighing, Faith placed a hand firmly on the tip of Firstbourne's snout, knowing the space between the nostrils was sensitive enough to wake a dragon. Firstbourne's breath hitched, and her eyes slid open warily.

"Hey," said Faith quietly. Firstbourne relaxed again, her eyes sliding back to half-shut. She sighed in greeting, her breath ruffling Faith's hair. Faith dipped her head in reply and scratched under the dragon's chin. This was familiar, at least. Someone she knew from home. She was already forgetting how much everything hurt.

"They treating you all right?" she murmured. Firstbourne rocked her head ambivalently, clearly too drained to tell the difference. Faith limped past her head, trailing one hand along Firstbourne's scales to let her know where she was, and searched for a couple of new injuries she knew she would see. She flinched at a long, grisly wound in the dragon's side, being held together with stitches as long as her hand. It was good that they'd treated that, but the stitching must have hurt. _Getting_ that cut must have hurt. Faith had seen the Oni dragging his spear through Firstbourne's ribs. Then again, right after that she'd seen Firstbourne whirl around and just sorta deftly snip the Oni's head off, so . . . repaid in full, anyway.

"You heal fast, don't you?" she said, leaning surreptitiously against Firstbourne's side. Freaking healing potion, it had no right to make her this lightheaded. Firstbourne grunted, not moving.

"The darkness is going to come here next," continued Faith. "I think it's already hit. It might already be spreading. We don't have long to get back into form."

Firstbourne grunted again, shutting her eyes. This was weirdly noncommital behavior for her, considering it was Oni they were talking about. Faith waited for a more typical response, still placing more weight against Firstbourne's side than she liked to admit. The dragon queen didn't move, however.

Biting her lip, Faith limped back to Firstbourne's head.

"You miss your spawn, don't you?"

At this angle she could only see one of Firstbourne's eyes, but that one slipped open now and fixed on her balefully. Faith tried to make reassuring eye contact, to let Firstbourne know she understood, but apparently it only gave Firstbourne the motivation to finally move. Snorting crisply, she heaved her chin off the ground just long enough to turn her head away.

Well, that said enough all on its own.

"I know," said Faith quietly. "I miss everyone too."

She felt the giant form tense beside her, but there was no other response.

"I would say it's not your fault," continued Faith. "But you know I'm not stupid enough to lie to you. Yes. I know. It's your fault. It's just as much mine. We were both supposed to protect our own, and we've both failed."

Silence. Firstbourne shuddered violently. For a moment Faith couldn't go on; saying it out loud made it all a little too real. She swallowed bile and waited silently.

After the nausea had passed a little, she took a deep breath and forced her voice above a whisper.

"So if we've failed," she said. "What do we do now?"

More silence.

"Are we giving up?" It wasn't rhetorical. At this point, one word and Faith was ready to.

The silence stretched on. The seconds ticked by, each one bringing them closer and closer to a wordless "yes."

Just as Faith was about to accept the silent assent, Firstbourne twitched. Her ribs heaved as she drew in a breath, then a growl rumbled up into her throat. It peaked into a primal snarl, then dipped back into a steady, angry rumble, uninterrupted by breaths, like an engine had been ignited in the dragon's chest.

Faith breathed out a sigh, suddenly so weak with relief that she was forced to catch herself against Firstbourne's neck. They weren't giving up. The queen's rage still prevailed. If she still had the will to fight on, so did Faith.

"So we're going to avenge them." Faith rubbed one hand along the dragon's jawline, feeling it quiver in time with her growling. "Every last one of them."

The growl rose in pitch and fervor.

"We'll make the Oni pay ten times over, won't we?" she continued. Firstbourne heaved her head up again and brought it back around. She couldn't keep it lifted for long, but she leaned in, rubbing her cheek against Faith's, still snarling steadily. Faith rested her head against the rough scales, feeling the sound vibrating through her ribcage, alongside her own heartrate steadily speeding up to match it.

"That's right. We'll show them what regret looks like. Either we'll win and paint every inch of this realm with their blood, or they'll win but spend the rest of eternity remembering us with fear. Right?"

Firstbourne's snarl rocketed into a gutteral roar of hunger. Smoke spurted from her nostrils and the tip of her tail lashed fitfully. Faith half-smiled, though she wasn't sure if it was from shared bloodlust or a kind of cruel amusement. They must cut a pretty pathetic picture right now. Both of them barely able to stay awake and upright, sinking slowly into the muddy loam around the irrigation ditches, swearing almighty vengeance to each other as if they stood some kind of a chance. Stupid. But it kept them alive, at least.

Firstbourne's strength finally gave out, and the growling stopped as her head lurched and sank back to the ground. Her head alone weighed as much as a small truck, so the uncoordinated descent was enough to knock Faith back several feet. Firstbourne grunted in apology, panting.

"I'm not firing on all cylinders," said Faith tartly, picking herself up. "The First Spinjitzu Master's son has some really irresponsible healing potion."

Firstbourne nodded breathlessly. Good excuse; she was gonna go with that too. Totally chalking all of this up to that barrel of sludge Wu made her drink. Faith gave her another wry smile, then winced and shifted her weight away from her wounded side. She tried to keep her hand from drifting to the injury.

"All right," she said. "You rest, heal up. I will too. When I see you tomorrow we'll both be in fighting shape, eh?"

Firstbourne blinked, then flicked one eye over Faith in a silent question.

"No, I can't stay." Faith kept her tone businesslike. If her heart was suddenly melting, Firstbourne didn't need to know. "They think I'm not fit to get out of bed. If they find out I came all the way down here, they're going to lose their fool minds, and that's the last thing any of us need right now. Besides—" she whapped the back of her hand lightly against Firstbourne's scales "—how would we explain this?"

Firstbourne gave a wry snort of concession. Fair point. Couldn't have these tiny squishy Ninjagians thinking she and Faith did anything more than tolerate each other.

"All right," said Faith again, seemingly to herself. She took a few dogged steps, then came up short, her teeth gritting. Firstbourne eyed her in concern.

"I'm fine." Faith waved her off. "I'll be fine."

She waited for a moment, hoping her left leg would become a little more amenable to bearing weight and her nausea would subside. Every time it seemed to be getting better she'd think of all those stairs, _upwards_ this time, and—ugh. This was going to be fun.

Firstbourne gave a worried growl now, turning her head to study Faith more thoroughly.

"Healing potion," insisted Faith, but finally shook her head in defeat. "I don't know, maybe I'll—maybe I'll just catch my breath."

Firstbourne huffed in approval and withdrew a little to give Faith space. Faith limped over and leaned against the dragon's neck resignedly, letting herself slide to the ground.

"Just a few minutes," she said. "I'm not staying."

Firstbourne snorted slightly.

"I _mean_ it," retorted Faith. "It's not my fault if I've been half-poisoned."

Firstbourne snorted again. Faith considered smacking her, but decided against it. You didn't push your luck with a critter this proud and this massive. Besides, they'd just been getting along for a change.

Sighing, Faith leaned back and let herself go limp for a moment. In just a second she'd take those stupid stairs. No problem. And anyway, she was still glad she'd come down here. If she hadn't, she and Firstbourne might have both lain awake all night cursing their losses, and by morning they would have beaten themselves down into despair beyond salvage. Now instead they'd stirred each other back into a proper murderous rage. Hopefully they could keep running on that till they faced the Oni, and if they survived past that, then they could mourn and blame themselves later. Good plan.

She started, chagrined at the realization that her eyes had been closed. This wouldn't do. Time to clear out of here, before she—

—The next thing she knew she was waking up. And she was waking up not of her own accord, but because she'd just been set not too precisely on a hard cobblestone surface. That didn't do her side much good.

Once the fireworks had faded from her vision, she looked around, disoriented. Wait, this was the courtyard of the monastery. How had she—

Startled enough to forget her injuries, she rolled over and looked up. Sure enough, Firstbourne was balancing precariously on the stone stairway, her head towering high over the monastery wall. Oh. Of _all_ the—!

"I was going to walk!" hissed Faith, furious. Firstbourne rolled her eyes in an alarmingly human manner.

"Don't you patronize me. I would have made it!" Faith wasn't sure if she was more angry at the indignity of getting carried back up to the monastery, or at Firstbourne dragging herself up this whole frigging mountain in _that_ condition.

"What are you going to do now?" she whisper-shouted, navigating to her feet. "You can't even turn around here! Are you going to sleep draped over the wall like that? When they catch you in the morning, they'll lose their—"

Firstbourne's head withdrew from above the wall. Faith heard the leathery flap of spreading wings. Oh, she was _not_ about to—

"No!" barked Faith, diving for the monastery doors again. She was just in time to see Firstbourne, wings braced, toss herself gamely off the stairs. The lizard was crazed. She could barely keep her head off the ground, and she thought she could fly?

By some miracle, she didn't drop like a seven-ton rock. With her wings cocked at different angles, she lapsed into a magnificent death spiral, corkscrewing down into the darkness. Faith could only watch in blank disbelief.

Finally she heard a faint thud, far below. She couldn't see much down there, but suddenly there was a bright arc of flame, leaping and vanishing just as fast. A flare to prove Firstbourne had made it down all right. Now she was probably going to flop over and bleed herself to sleep. Dear FSM, for the queen of Creation and an elder being of the universe, you'd think that dragon wouldn't be such an incredible _idiot_—

This healing potion of Wu's was fantastic stuff, though. You could blame it for _everything_. If Faith couldn't remember the last time she'd felt this close to crying, it was definitely the potion's fault.

* * *

**A/N: *Somewhere nearby, Wu, lying awake in bed*: Somebody is knocking my potions. I can feel it. }:[**

**Kinda chapped, though. Why is it that the character list for this archive includes random background characters who only spoke a single line, and obscure one-page characters from the Greg Farshtey comics, and ghost minifigs who never even _appeared_ anywhere besides the playsets, but it doesn't have Firstbourne? That's no way to treat a dragon queen, y'all. I may have to see about this.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Well then. **

**I hope the guest reviewer who pushed me over the edge to dig up my unposted scraps sees this. ^_^''**

**It's kind of two unrelated stories, but they're too short to post individually . . .**

* * *

The dreams weren't pleasant, but be damned, Faith actually got some _sleep_ before morning struck. That was better than some nights at home. The downside, though, was that once she got to sleeping it was hard to wake up.

The injuries hurt a little less now, but they were still the first thing she was conscious of. The second thing was an unfamiliar syrupy heaviness in all her limbs—usually when she woke up, she was alert and tense right away. Then she started to pick up sounds, albeit imperfectly. She could hear a hazy voice, female-sounding, buzzing something that she couldn't pick up half of.

"—t have gotten worse. From one to ten, how bad?"

"Hm?" Faith blinked groggily.

"One to ten." Misako sounded concerned. "One is no pain, ten is the worst pain you could imagine."

Faith squinted for a moment, trying to process. Huh, so Jet Jack was a ten. Good to know.

"Faith?" Now Misako's voice really had a worried edge to it.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," mumbled Faith, shaking her head in an effort to clear the fuzz. She tried to sit up, and made a noise of irritation when somebody pressed her back.

"If you're in worse pain, you shouldn't be moving," said Misako.

"I'm _fine_," sighed Faith. She finally managed to get her eyes into focus, and squinted up at the gray-haired woman holding her down.

"You might have re-injured yourself," said Misako crisply. "I'm leaning towards covering for you, but if you're hurt, I'm going to have to tell Wu."

Faith blinked slowly. Covering for her . . . ? Why was everything so confusing? She should be sharper than this. Blast the fever, blast the healing potion.

"All right, just a minute," she said, pushing away Misako's hand and sitting up. "First of all, who are you, second of all, covering _what_ for me?"

"My name is Misako." The gray-haired woman sighed. "And by covering for you, I mean keeping your midnight adventures between you and me."

Faith woke up a little more fully, incredulous. How did this Misako character know about that?! Had she been seen last night?

Misako, seeing her confusion, smiled tiredly and wagged a finger towards Faith's feet. Faith followed, squinted confusedly for a few moments, then muffled an oath as understanding dawned on her.

This was really getting disgraceful. Apparently, last night she managed to completely miss that her boots were coated in mud almost up to the knees, and there was more mud drying in her clothes and even her hair. And apparently she had stumbled off to bed without even realizing that this would _definitely_ give away where she'd been. And all this from Iron Baron's former top strategist . . .

Okay, you know what? This time she wasn't even kidding herself, it really _was_ the healing potion's fault.

"I'm assuming you had your reasons," said Misako quietly. "I'm sure you knew what you were getting yourself into, so I'm not going to lecture you. But Wu might. And besides, he has enough on his mind right now."

Faith glared, nettled. Sure, this woman looked to be at least three times her age, but Faith was the leader (well . . . former leader) of an entire warrior society. You didn't just come in here and start guilt-tripping her and threatening her with lectures, as if she were an eight-batch whelp caught stealing honeycomb.

"You don't have to give me that look," said Misako. "I'm trying to help you. Wu is out warning the surrounding villages in case of attack. I can help you get cleaned up before he comes back, and we'll all save ourselves some extra worry. But first you need to be honest with me about how badly you're injured. You can play tough if you want, but you won't be doing yourself any favors, and I think we both know that's not the responsible thing to do."

Faith stared at her for a moment. On some level she realized she really _was_ getting told off like a whelp, and part of her wanted to be insulted. But at the same time, she was starting to feel an inkling of grudging respect for this woman. She clearly had a will just about as strong as Faith's own.

"I'm not bad off," she said at last, carefully. "I feel better than yesterday. Nothing new, I think."

"Still feverish, though?" Misako thought for a moment, then sighed. "I guess a shower couldn't hurt. Come on. I'll change the sheets while you're out."

Faith grudgingly allowed herself to be pulled to her feet and led to a small room down the hall. The light inside was uncomfortably, artificially bright, the walls were a suffocating white, and she didn't recognize any of the strange furnishings in here.

"You turn on the water using this knob," said Misako, businesslike. "Get yourself scrubbed up, then dry off with this." She pointed to a nearby folded towel. "I have to prepare the monastery in case we need to shelter villagers, but I'll be nearby. Let me know when you're cleaned up and I'll see about finding you something else to wear."

With that she vanished, shutting the door behind her. Faith leaned against what she would later learn was called a sink, processing woozily. She was still pretty ticked about getting bossed around, but between the fever and the renewed discomfort of standing up, she didn't have much energy left for sulking.

And admittedly, keeping last night secret from the son of the First Spinjitzu Master did sound nice. Getting caught by Misako, and for such an obvious, _stupid _reason, was already . . . frustrating . . . enough. Wu would probably be able to guess _why_ she'd snuck out in the first place. Heaven forbid.

Sighing, Faith gingerly turned on the shower and watched the water falling for a moment. She had a vague idea of how it must work—they must pump it in through pipes, like a fuel injector. Daddy No-Legs had hit on a similar premise with his rainwater collection system. And she was hardly surprised that they'd invented a way to create rainfall indoors—who could blame them? She wouldn't mind standing in the rain all day, herself.

But this whole question of using it for bathing? . . . Faith didn't want to be judgmental, but it struck her as rather heathen. No self-respecting Hunter would think standing around in the rain was enough to get clean. Hadn't these people ever heard of sand baths?

Well. At any rate, there certainly wasn't any sand around here, her fever wasn't getting any lighter, and she wasn't about to pass up a nice rainshower. Might as well give it a try. Apparently there was supposed to be some scrubbing involved?

Despite the fever, she had to admit the water was nice. Definitely as nice as standing in the rain. The ability to make it hot weirded her out a little, she'd never felt rainfall _that_ warm, but you could definitely get used to that as well. And honestly, it did get rid of the dried mud beautifully.

Clean, though? Hell no. She scrubbed as hard as she could, and no dice. When you had a proper sandbath, you'd emerge with a healthy rough texture to your skin; the sign of a good, rejuvenating cleanse. Dribbling some water over yourself and calling that good enough? Heathenry. You might as well spit on your palms and rub yourself down like a blasted ground shrew.

The towels weren't much help either. She tried scrubbing with those too, and they maybe roughed up her skin a _little_, but not nearly enough. Didn't do so well with the drying, either.

If she'd relaxed at all under the water, she was pretty well fed-up again by the time she'd finished with the towel. Sighing again, she limped back to the sickroom, unwilling to go hunting after Misako. The sheets had indeed been changed, fresh and white again.

Faith sank down on the edge of the bed. It was hard to figure out how to feel. A nagging voice in the back of her head kept insisting that she ought to be grateful: this complete stranger, who clearly had a lot on her mind already, went to a lot of extra trouble to help her save face. Then again, gratitude wasn't all that habitual for Hunters, and she was still battered, feverish, and generally miserable. It was easier to be grouchy. She'd be baseline polite and call that good enough.

Just then Misako came hurrying by in the hallway, apparently busy with preparations. Catching sight of Faith, she backed up.

"Oh, you're done? Let me—" She trailed off unexpectedly, and for a moment she seemed to be trying not to smile.

"Just for the future, dear," she said at last. "You're supposed to shower with your clothes _off_."

It really was a heathen realm, and Faith was just about done with it.

* * *

The final battle was a blur. A lot of it had hurt pretty bad, but as far as Faith could guess, not as bad as actively getting impaled. So that was a plus.

That whole Tornado of Creation thing, also. That was impressive, if rough on the retinas. Faith was going to be seeing it in countercolor every time she closed her eyes for a week. The blast of heat and light had knocked her out for a little while, but hey—it also knocked out the young woman made of solid metal who had helped her guard the monastery doors. And apparently it had nearly straight-up _killed_ the little green one, and she understood he was supposed to be pretty hot stuff. The grandson of the First Spinjitzu Master, or something?

At any rate. Everyone survived in the end, including the little green one, and it gradually dawned on Faith that the battle was _over_. The Oni were gone. Ninjago, at least, would be safe from further attacks.

Not for the first time, she wasn't sure how to feel. She was glad they'd won, of course. And glad Ninjago was safe, in a kind of third-person way. But there was also the tiniest twinge of bitterness that her own realm and her own people couldn't have been so lucky. And maybe, distantly, the tiniest bit of frustration that she'd survived. She was the last living Dragon Hunter in the universe; a leader without any people, a warrior without anyone to defend. What was she going to _do _with herself? Cowardly of her, maybe, but honestly—death frightened her less.

But those were problems she could deal with a little later. Heck, maybe she could commit herself to protecting the First Spinjitzu Master's son, or his grandson, or both. Considering their attitude towards locking the monastery gates, they needed all the protection they could get.

Speaking of the First Spinjitzu Master's grandson, the others were ushering him towards the sickroom now. Zane had given her a deferential "You really should be resting" as he passed, and . . . honestly? No arguments. She was _wrecked._ And nothing ruined your image faster than your legs abruptly quitting on you.

She drifted back to the sickroom alongside the ninja, and sank down on the edge of the bed without prompting. Through a vague haze of nausea, she watched them checking over Lloyd.

"No concussion," reported Zane, deactivating his highbeams—or "eyebeams," if you listened to Jay. "Truly impressive. Are you having any pain?"

"I mean, I'm sore all over," said Lloyd, smiling tiredly. "But nothing really bites."

"Are you sure?" pressed Kai. "Not even broken ribs?"

"Sorry to disappoint," said Lloyd, grinning wryly.

"You know what I mean, squirt." Kai ground the heels of his palms over his face. "You kind of had a couple tons of wood smack you. For a second there we thought you were—" He broke off. The others looked in various directions, as if they could find one heck of a distraction from _that_ thought in a corner somewhere.

"Ah . . . Green Energy, I guess," said Lloyd. "Gotta love it, right?" He had mostly been looking down at his hands during the entire process, but now he lifted his gaze enough to eye the others guiltily. "I, uh . . . Sorry if I scared you."

The others said nothing, but Nya silently stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him. The others crowded in squeezing his hand or patting his shoulder, letting him know how relieved they were he was all right. Faith looked away, unfamiliar and somewhat uncomfortable with this open a display of affection.

"Guyyyyyyys." Lloyd laughed drowsily. "I'm okay, I'm okay! I'll just rest a little and I'll be good as new. Besides, hey-hey, Cole needs a checkup too, you know."

Now the fussing switched over to Cole. He got some hugs as well, which unfortunately only served to prove _he_ had broken ribs. Zane tried to assess him, but Cole struggled and protested so much that he couldn't get a good reading. There was concern that the bone fragments might have poked holes in his lungs or started some bleeding somewhere, not to mention a fall like that seemed unhealthy in general—so in the end the others ended up dragging him to the hospital. They wanted to take Lloyd too, just in case, but he declined.

Finally they were all gone. Blessed silence fell. Lloyd fell back onto his bed with a clearly relieved sigh.

Faith opened one eye and studied him. What was the story with this kid? She had heard Wu use the term "nephew," and apparently that tall creepy son-of-an-Oni she'd seen arguing with Lloyd was his _father?_ Aka possibly Wu's brother? That threw her a little. How did this innocent-looking youngster come from . . . _that_ guy?

She half-rose onto her elbows and squinted frankly at Lloyd for a moment. There was definitely a familial resemblance to Wu. Some of the facial features, the particular light in his gaze. But there was something different about him too—something she had never seen in Wu, and probably never would. But she saw it here. A lack of that unshakeable innocence, that dogged naivety. Young as he was, she could tell this one had already crossed over. He had become like her.

In a way that made her oddly sad. She wouldn't wish her insight on anybody, let alone this little sweetheart. Nobody got to this kind of place without dragging through hell first.

His friends clearly loved him, though. Insofar as that, he was lucky.

Lloyd noticed her watching him, and gave her a tired smile.

"Hey," he said. "Faith, right?"

Faith nodded.

"And you are . . . ?"

"Lloyd." He waved half-heartedly. "Garmadon. Nice to meet you. Sorry if my friends kept you awake."

Faith shrugged. They could screech all they wanted, they had nothing on repair day in Dead's End.

"Are you sure you shouldn't have gone with your friend?" she said.

"Nahhh, I'm good." Lloyd sighed. "I just hope Cole's okay. I still can't believe he's alive . . . We were all so sure he . . . "

Faith looked away, grimacing. It wasn't Lloyd's fault that she'd lost everyone and he'd miraculously lost no one. She could probably make a few slicing remarks, try to make him hurt as much as she did, but historically that had never really worked out well for her. Besides, the Oni had rampaged through a big settlement nearby, apparently. He'd probably lost _somebody_ he cared about there. Maybe he just handled it better.

"Last I heard, _you_ were the one who came closer to actually dying," she said instead.

"I think I _was_ dead." Lloyd said it so gravely that Faith didn't even question his seriousness. She sat up, interested.

"What does it feel like?"

"I . . . dunno." Lloyd tousled his hair, chuckling bemusedly. "It's blurry. Looking back, I don't know, maybe I was just dreaming. I guess I was just dreaming."

"But what did you see?" persisted Faith. She didn't know why she needed to know so urgently. Or why it was suddenly so much harder to push Muzzle's haunted eyes to the back of her mind.

Lloyd only laughed weakly again.

"I saw my grandfather. The First Spinjitzu Master." He shook his head. "Ahhh, or I thought I did. Weird dream, huh?"

Faith sank back, disappointed. Of course he'd see something special. He was from a line of supernatural beings, of course they'd favor their own. That didn't tell her anything about what poor Chew Toy was going through right now, or No-Legs, or Muzzle.

Now she _really_ wanted to slash a hole in Lloyd's happiness. She made an earnest effort; somehow her mouth filled with cotton and her tongue wouldn't obey. Sighing, she gave up. Whatever protection spell hung over Wu also covered his nephew.

"I doubt you were dreaming," she said quietly.

"You think?" Lloyd gave her a startled look.

"You're his grandson, aren't you?" Faith shrugged. "He would want to see you. Besides, even dreams usually aren't _just_ dreams."

"Huh." Lloyd went quiet, contemplating. Eventually he gave her a shy sidelong smile. "Well . . . Maybe. Thanks for believing me."

Faith shrugged again, sinking back and shutting her eyes. Lloyd yawned inadvertently and settled down as well.

"Hey . . . I don't wanna bug you any more if you're tired, but can we talk sometime?" He flicked her a drowsy glance. "I always wan'ed to meet you. Nya and I heard so much about you."

"_Ha._" Faith smiled sardonically. "I'm sure you did."

"No, nothing bad!" Lloyd laughed. "The guys seemed to really . . . respect you."

Faith cut him a dry glance.

"Okay, so maybe I heard a _little_." Lloyd grinned sheepishly. "But seriously. They liked you overall, 'specially Uncle Wu. He's always saying how he knows the First Realm is in good hands now."

Faith rolled her eyes lightly, but allowed herself a smile. She was momentarily overwhelmed with the turn her life had taken. She had spent so many years cursing under Iron Baron's heel; she had always thought she would grind out a few more miserable years and then die in some pointless confrontation. Promptly replaced and forgotten, her whole life meaningless. She had listened to the stories of the First Spinjitzu Master with glazed eyes, assuming he and his lineage were only glorious specters. They would never touch her grimy, blood-spattered life, they were only stories to force some artificial hope into a hopeless existence.

Yet now here she was, having a casual conversation with the literal _grandson_ of the First Spinjitzu Master. She'd fought alongside him. And that was after traveling with and teaching and maybe even becoming a friend of the First Spinjitzu Master's _son_. Oh, and she got to hang out with a dragon queen who even _preceded_ the FSM, and she had just spent the afternoon impaling some more elder beings of the universe.

Talk about moving in exalted circles. She should have been abusing her bragging rights more back at Dead's End.

"Say Faith? I did have one question, though." Lloyd had been silent for a while, but now he lifted his head and peered over.

"Mhm?" Faith said sleepily.

"Well . . . " Lloyd seemed to be figuring out how to word this. "I did hear _one_ thing, maybe. The guys sorta brought it up by accident, and then they all caught themselves and clammed up. So it's kinda been killing me not knowing. Is it, uh . . . is it true that you almost punched Master Wu?"

Faith's eyes snapped open, locking blankly onto the ceiling.

Oh. Damn. Damn, damn, _damn_.

"You really _did?_" Lloyd, gathering enough from her reaction, propped himself up on one elbow with delighted curiosity.

Faith didn't answer for a moment. Sands. She had never made the connection before. Back in the First Realm, Wu had been such a—such a little _chump._ He'd been naive, timid, hopeless with any kind of weapon. The other boys had teased him and scolded him and taught him life lessons, protected him like the weakest link he was. Even though she had constantly _called _him "Son of the First Spinjitzu Master," it had been way too easy to forget that he was . . . the actual son of the First Spinjitzu Master. Basically a deity.

And she'd nearly knocked his teeth in.

"Well," she sighed after a moment, dragging her hands down her face. "I guess I was going to the Cursed Realm anyway."

"You're not going to the Cursed Realm." Lloyd laughed. "I already told ya, Uncle Wu really likes you. He's not mad. And even if he was, he's not the type to send people to the Cursed Realm for—like—personal stuff."

Faith eyed him dubiously.

"And even besides all that," continued Lloyd matter-of-factly. "He _couldn't_ send you to the Cursed Realm. Nya destroyed it."

The casualness with which he said it gave Faith a headache. That Nya? The sharp-eyed slip of a teenaged girl Faith had glimpsed during the afternoon's battle? Destroyed the entire realm of the damned?

Faith was moving in some _exalted_ circles.


End file.
